


it has to be so lonely (to be the only one who's holy)

by makapedia



Category: Akatsuki no Yona | Yona of the Dawn
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Childhood Friends, Demisexuality, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-10 09:23:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17423210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makapedia/pseuds/makapedia
Summary: It starts like any other day.





	1. Chapter 1

It starts like any other day.

Unsuspiciously, Hak awakens to the sound of his roommate's off-key singing. The hum of the pipes resonate through his tiny shoe box of an apartment and all is normal in the world. Mornings are still the devil's hours and Jae-Ha still has no respect for their neighbors. On all accounts, today is just another day, and the floorboards creek beneath his feet as he stands.

He really should invest in some slippers. Or socks that won't slip off of his feet in bed. Or— Hak looks down wearily at his twin mattress — maybe he should really think about saving up for a bigger bed and really start pinching his pennies.

Ah, well. It's not like he's going to be bringing anyone else into his room anytime soon. Really, as long as it stays just a him problem and not a multiple people problem, he can live with it. At least until spring break anyway. Sleep is only temporary anyway; the daily grind (and actually staying awake during lectures) is the real struggle, and his boyhood mattress has nothing to do with that.

The singing echoes more loudly throughout the hall. Hak grinds the heel of his palm into his eyes and groans, groggily dragging himself into the kitchen and pouring himself a luke-warm cup of coffee. He drinks it black, without much thought, and grimaces as the bitterness hits the back of his tongue. Ah, well. Nothing to be done about that. It's senseless, to waste sugar and creamer, when he knows Jae-Ha goes through the stuff like candy. Someone in the apartment has to be sensible with their finances.

Sometimes he feels like an 80 year old man in an 20 year old boy's body. Sometimes — at times like this, as he cracks his neck and flicks the bathroom lights from the outside — he feels more like he's going through the motions than really living at all. Almost like he's from the outside looking in.

But oh well. Another day, another cup of joe. Jae-Ha's using up all of the hot water and Hak still has to at least wash his hair before class.

.

He doesn't get the chance.

But it's fine, whatever. He pulls a beanie over his ears and calls it good enough. It's cold anyway, at six-thirty in the morning, and wet hair would just get crunchy and weirdly icy in the early chill anyway. He'll deal.

It's sort of his motto these days. Most days. Maybe it's always been.

The wait for the bus is uneventful, per usual. The same overly cautious dude is already there on the bench waiting, reading a book, very primly. Hak bites back the urge to ask if the white is his natural color because it's too early to be ribbing the guy, no matter how comical his reactions always are, and instead stands by the bench, book bag slung over one arm, mug of (now) cold coffee in his other hand. Hak sips sleepily and allows a sigh.

From the right, the tow-haired guy flips his page and hums. "The bus is late."

"Mmm." Hak squints down the foggy lamp-lit street. "Isn't it always."

"So unprofessional."

It's not that deep. Hak bites back a snide comment and rolls his eyes. "It'll get here."

"It's only the third week of classes. You'd think they'd make more of an effort to be timely."

Eh. The longer Hak has to sit and wait, the better, honestly. He's not bothered by some minor tardiness, especially from city workers. Whatever, really. He knows how to feels to have a duty, and knows what it feels like to roll with the punches in order to fulfill it. Sometimes things happen that are unforeseen, and sometimes you have to just deal with those issues as they come. Like last minute students, sprinting to the bus stops. Like traffic. Red lights.

Hak snorts and sips the rest of his coffee. "You'll make it on time, relax."

The guy sniffs primly. "I hope so. I wouldn't want to leave a bad impression on my professor so early in the year."

He'll be fine, Hak thinks dryly. He'll be just fine.

The bus comes only three minutes late, despite his bus stop partner's impatience, and Hak finds himself dropping into the only available seat on the bus and staring very pointedly out the front window. Morning commute is the best time to dissociate, he's found, and with as broken sleep as he's been getting the past few weeks, some dissociation is required for future clarity. At least, he should probably be more alert and present come class hours, and all present brain power should be further preserved.

Sounds and colors just sort of blur around him as he hits that nice place, finally. Nothing really exists but the sound of the bus starting and stopping, the hum of the heater, the road before them. It's easy to temporarily lose himself in the sensation of it, this mindless commute, and for a solid five? (Ten? Fifteen?) minutes, Hak finally fully allows himself to stop being a person and just space out.

"Good morning," says the driver, very dryly, as heels click onto the entryway of the bus. Somewhere in the back of Hak's mind, he wonders who in the right mind would wear heels at nearly seven in the morning on the way to class, but he doesn't get to finish the thought before curiosity gets the best of him and he looks up.

After all, he'd known that mess of red hair anywhere.

"Thank you!" Yona chirps, and her voice is just as clueless as it'd been three years ago, when he'd left for school.

It all comes rushing back to him at once, and very suddenly Hak's mindless, routine morning has flipped upside down. There are butterflies, disgustingly so, squirming in his gut, and he almost dreads the recognition that flashes through her wide eyes as she turns and sees him, too.

Christ. It's like no time has passed at all. He is fifteen, and crushing, and stupid, and— the white haired brat seated next to him is quicker to jump to his feet.

"Here!" He is all nervous smiles and sparkling eyes, and Hak has half the mind to kick at his knees, just to knock him off his stupid high horse. "Miss, you can take my seat, I'm wearing more comfortable shoes—"

His babbling doesn't even kill the moment. Yona smiles politely at him and drops down to sit, elbow brushing against Hak, and it's like every nerve in his body has switched to red alert. He is fifteen, and Yona's smile is still somehow the only thing capable of tying his tongue in useless knots.

Stupid. He's not a child anymore. He has coffee in his system. He is awake and  _this isn't a dream_ , dammit.

"Public transit, princess?" He finally grits out, summoning the strength within him to smile crookedly at his boyhood crush. There's something strange and very jarring, about running into her as an adult, outside of middle school, even high school — and yet there's something very normal about it after all, something very familiar, at the same time, about the way her hair curls around her ear. Nostalgic, even.

What's more familiar is the aching in his bones and the tug in his chest. Hak calls upon years of willpower and buries the feeling, tucks it back where it came from and locks it up tight, safe and sound. Not now. Not now.

Her pretty expression sours and it does nothing to dull his frustrating attraction to her. "It really is you, Hak," she says, pouting. "Nobody else uses that stupid nickname but you!"

"If the shoe fits," he says.

"It doesn't!" It always has. She's spoiled. Sweet, but still, she's spoiled — always has been and apparently always will be, if her choice of footwear is any evidence. "I see you're still a brat."

"Some things never change."

"Apparently." But her expression perks, as it always does, and the smile she gives him is so brilliantly eager that he has to mentally kick himself in the ass to keep himself from thinking too much of it, because— "I haven't seen you in years! How have you been? I'm lucky Soo-won slept in this morning, or else I wouldn't of run into you at all—"

The ballooning in his chest rightfully deflates, and yes, he thinks, squashing down whatever hope had been swelling there, too.  _Put me back into my place_.

"That doesn't sound like him at all." Hak looks away from her blinding stare and brushes his thumb along the lip of his mug instead. "Leaving the princess to fend for herself in the morning. I ought to have a talk with him."

"Stop calling me that," she says, bumping his shoulder. The white-haired guy from the bus stop stares, a little shrewdly, at the two of them. "He had a long night last night, okay? It was—"

"His birthday," Hak finishes for her. Funny. He hadn't even thought about it, and still it'd come to him, like dawn, sure as day. It was Soo-won's birthday yesterday, wasn't it. Huh. "Did you guys have fun celebrating?"

He regrets asking as soon as it leaves his head and enters the real world. Once there, it gains tangible reality, and Yona's resulting blush will forever haunt him. It's almost sad, the way his stomach sinks at the almost bashful way she presses her lips together, and  _why is he looking at her again._  Doesn't he know better?

Stupid. He'd already resolved to be over this by now. He's not some selfish brat. Her feelings were always more important than his own. Her happiness was of prime importance, even then, at thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. And if Soo-won brought her that happiness, well, then Hak was happy to step back and allow the two of them to bask in that honeymoon phase forever. It's what she'd always wanted, after all. Even as just a girl, she'd tell him about it, in eager, childish whispers. She'd dreamed about marrying the guy since she was at least twelve.

"It was fun!" Yona says, finally, full of that characteristic brightness of hers. "We got together with some of his college friends and went out for dinner and a movie. It was—"

The bus lurches to a stop. From in front of the, the white-haired guy stumbles, and Hak reaches out, mindlessly, to grab his forearm and sturdy him. Yona blinks once, twice, and then looks between the two men.

"... Do you two know each other?"

"Barely," Hak says, letting go.

"We wait at the same bus stop every morning," the guy says, still very flustered, understandably, from Hak's reflexes.

"Oh!" Yona says, brightly. "So you have to put up with this big oaf every morning!"

Hak is too old now to take offense to her ribbing. Instead, he fits her with a dry look and she grins, giggling.

"Oaf," the guy says, "yes, that's a good way to describe him."

"Thanks for putting up with my old friend," Yona says, then holds out a hand to him. "My name is Yona. What's yours?"

It just now dawns upon Hak that he also doesn't know this guy's name, and they've been meeting at the same bus stop every morning for the past month. Jesus.

"Kija," he says, looking flattered, that she'd think to introduce herself to him. "It's very nice to meet you, miss Yona."

"Just Yona," she says, waving a hand. "Don't bother with the formalities—"

"Watch it," Hak cuts in, eyes crinkling. "This one is royalty. She can have you beheaded, if you're not careful. And she has diplomatic immunity."

"Hak!"

Once a princess, always a princess, and it seems he can't resist pushing her buttons. And well, if he's not too old for this now, at least he can allow himself to bask in their childhood games, instead of dwelling on his stupid crush on her. It's easy, almost too easy, to fall back into his old habits with her. He jabs and teases, she blushes and scolds him, and then they're Hak and Yona, and once again, he's the big brother figure. And that's safe. He can watch over her that way, at least. He can be near her without allowing himself to overstep any boundaries, and she—

She can be happy. She can have who she wants. And he won't ruin that for her.

The soreness in his chest is a wound long left dormant. But it's almost funny, in a sad way, how even after all this time, it still hasn't closed up. And by that, he means it isn't funny at all. And he's still pathetic.

.

"You should call me!" Yona insists, as they get off the bus at the same damn stop. "Or at least text me, or something! I know Soo-won would love to get back into contact with you. You guys were always so close when we were kids."

Walking side-by-side with her brings back far too many memories. Hak thinks he should probably pull a u-turn and park himself back into his shitty twin bed and fully process the roller coaster of feelings he's been forced to stumble through this morning, all in the matter of fifteen or so minutes.

"I don't have your number anymore," Hak says, as if it's an excuse, as if he hasn't had the number memorized for years. "I got a new phone."

She stops, then holds out her hand, expectantly. "Give it here!"

"You don't know my passcode."

She narrows her eyes at him. "Then unlock it for me, dummy."

Yeah, the little princess hasn't changed a bit. Hak smiles wistfully and does as she says anyway, despite his better judgement. But what else is he supposed to do? Perhaps he's a glutton for punishment, but even despite his… feelings, erm, for her, she was once one of his closest friends. And he's big enough now to ignore misguided attraction and just let himself be her friend. It doesn't bother him. It won't bother him.

Yona snatches the smartphone from his hands and navigates to his contacts with unnerving ease. Types in her number and tops it all off with a selfie contact picture that he definitely will not stew over later like a creep.

"There!" Yona hands his phone back to him and then jabs a skinny finger into his bicep. "You better— whoa."

He raises a brow.

"... You're like—" she pokes him again, brows furrowed. "Hard."

"That… is called muscle, princess." And there's a petty part of him that wants to ask - does Soo-won's arm not feel the same way? But he squashes the thought before it has chance to really flourish. It is neither the time nor the place for pride, not like that. Besides — he schools his expression into something of indifference — if she'd wanted muscles, she wouldn't have fawned over Soo-won all through high school. Though good looking in his own right, Hak supposes they'd been at two very different ends of the spectrum.

Whatever. It doesn't matter. He won't let it bother him.

"I know what a muscle feels like!" She blurts, ears pink. "It's just— I didn't expect yours to be so… beefy."

He can't help it. Hak laughs. "Beefy."

"Shut up!" She pouts, again, nose bunching up adorably. "You know what I mean! You're, like—"

He tries not to allow the praise to puff up his chest like a bird's. Instead, he tries to settle only with something of a smug grin, watching her flounder for the words. The Yona of their childhood would rather eat worms than compliment his physique and even imply that he was physically attractive. Her go-to insult had always been that he wasn't cute. And, well. He can't say she was ever wrong.

But still. She strokes something long left dormant in him, ancient and hungry, as she slaps a hand to his shoulder and attempts to shove him back. But she can't, not really, not when she's half his size and a quarter his strength, and he has half a mind to shrink down to her height and really get in her face about it.

"I'm  _what_ ," he says, then, pushing,  _smirking_ , still towering over her.

"Oh! You brat, like you don't know," she spits, still pushing off of him and marching ahead, heels clicking with purpose. And it's cute. It's just as cute as she's always been. Yona would never drop her pride, not like that.

He shakes his head and follows after her. "Still want me to text you, princess?"

"Stop calling me that!"

.

Once home, and safe from her pint-sized fury, he changes her name in his contacts to 'Princess', because he is an ass and she's funny when she pouts. Plus, it feels personal enough to sate some age-old insecurities that make his fingers itch, but just distant enough to allow himself to not get carried away.

Still, it seems as though this is too funny a prank, because Jae-Ha catches him grinning about it on the couch and proceeds to stick his nose in it.

"I don't think I've ever actually seen you smile," he says, brow raised, leaning against the doorway of their living area.

Hak stuffs his phone into his jeans pocket before he gives him roommate another opportunity to grill him on it. "I feel joy occasionally. Sometimes memes aren't the worst."

"Sure," Jae-Ha says, very clearly not convinced in the slightest. He's never one to let anything go, and Hak mentally berates himself for being foolish enough to let his guard down in his own home. The last thing Jae-Ha needs is ammunition to make his life living hell with. "I'm sure it was a meme that had you smiling like that."

"I don't smile," Hak says, deadpan. "I smirk at the expense of you, usually."

"You were smiling. It was nice." Jae-Ha innocently picks lint off of his arm, very nonchalantly. "It was almost cute, dare I say it."

The response is as automatic as it is robotic. "I'm not cute."

"Blind to your own beauty as always, I see." Jae-Ha plops into the loveseat across from him and grins in that smarmy way of his that makes Hak want to deck him. "A shame, really. You're quite the looker."

"Cut the flirting, Romeo."

Jae-Ha laughs it off. "Maybe someday you'll give in!"

Not likely. Not if he's still hung up over the same girl he's been annoyingly in love with since he was a kid. Hak huffs and melts back into the couch, willing himself to disappear completely and avoid this interrogation completely. "What. Stop staring at me. Out with it, already. I know you want to ask."

"How was your day?" Jae-Ha asks, almost too eagerly. "You've been in a peculiar mood since you got home from class this morning, and you keep looking at your phone and smiling like a school girl—"

"Definitely not like a school girl," Hak cuts in, flatly.

"A lot like a school girl." He's almost serene about it and it's creepy. Jae-Ha is having way too much fun with this. "I just think you should feel comfortable telling your big brother about your day. I'm here for you, you know, if you need someone to talk to."

Not on his life. Also. "You can't call yourself my big brother and then flirt with me in the same breath, you weirdo."

"Daddy?"

"I am  _leaving_."

"Hak," Jae-Ha says, pleadingly, catching his wrist as Hak stands to beeline for the door. "I'm being serious. Did something happen today to put you in such a good mood? I'm happy for you."

Hak chews on the words before they have the chance to see the light of day. He is Hak, after all, the immovable man, made of stone (and beef, apparently) and something like running into his childhood crush won't break him. He's too old, now, to run to anyone and gush about his feelings. Feelings that aren't requited. Feelings that've never been and never will be.

Still. There had been a gap left behind, without Yona around to dote on, and even as frustrating and clueless as that spoiled rich girl is, she'd still been the closest thing he'd had to a best friend, growing up. Her and her darling Prince Charming. And he'd be lying if there wasn't a part of him, however tiny and childish, that still missed having them around. That missed having that purpose in his life.

Hak rubs his forehead and sighs. "It's nothing. Really. I ran into an old friend today on the bus."

"A cute friend?" Jae-Ha asks, hopefully.

"Does it matter," Hak asks, very dryly. "I'm not you."

"Ouch," he says, and lets go of Hak's wrist to rub his chest in mock-pain. "You wound Daddy."

He is the actual worst. Hak doesn't think twice about immediately vacating the premise; fuck stewing on his feelings in the safety of his own living room, Hak thinks, very passionately slamming the door behind him. He'd rather be anywhere else than putting up with this.

.

Going out isn't exactly his style either, though.

But he can't just sit at home and allow Jae-Ha the opportunity to continue doing… whatever it is he was doing, ugh. So he goes out with Shin-Ah, the quiet guy who often sits beside him in calc, and finds himself sitting in the back of a dive bar, silently drinking cheap beer in his company while they people watch.

It sounds more pathetic than it actually is. Living in a college town has its merits, and people watching is close to his favorite pastime. And Shin-Ah, unlike Jae-Ha, minds his damn business and doesn't feel the need to fill the space with incessant babble. He might be quiet, but the company isn't unwelcome, and though he nurses a Diet Coke instead of booze, he doesn't seem to be having any less of a good time.

Going out like this is more his speed anyway. Hak watches a skinny blond kid — probably no older than 17 — plop down beside them at the bar and heave a heavy sigh.

Shin-Ah stares intently at him, in that curious, uncanny way of his. Hak knows he won't say anything though, not to a stranger.

Ah, well. What could it hurt to ask. "You good?"

The boy plants his face in his hands and sighs again. "I don't know what I'm doing here. My friend dragged me out with her and her boyfriend, but they disappeared at least thirty minutes ago, and my face is too pretty to be surrounded by all of this pit stink—"

That's fair. Hak keeps his expression even and takes pity on the guy because really, the place does kind of smell like armpit and mistakes. "What's your friend look like? Maybe we've seen her pass by or something."

"Short, with long red hair—"

Goddammit.

"Of course she does," Hak mutters under his breath. Why wouldn't she? It sounds just like Yona, getting herself lost, potentially getting herself into trouble. It'd been exactly why he'd appointed himself her personal body guard when they were children. Apparently nothing really has changed in the time he's been away, and for a brief moment, a bout of worry surges over him; how has she managed without him around to keep track of their surroundings? Soo-won was no better; he had special awareness, at least, but there was always a lost, dreamy look in his eyes, one that always seemed to skirt over her rambunctious head.

"Huh?"

Well. He might as well check. "Does her name happen to be Yona by any chance?"

The blond kid squints at him. "You know her?"

Shin-Ah's curious stare switches to Hak, instead, and yeah, okay, that's fair too. Though not on his level, Hak is kind of an anti-social kind of guy. Or, at least, he doesn't tend to talk to many girls. Especially girls with boyfriends.

"Childhood friend," Hak says, as if it explains everything. "You said she was with her boyfriend?"

"Yeah. His name's Soo-won. You can't miss him. Tall and blond, almost as pretty as I am," the guy stops, for a moment, and rubs his temples. "Which is why I can't understand how they managed to get lost. She isn't exactly a quiet girl!"

No, she's not. But she still has a funny way of slipping through the cracks sometimes. Has an even funnier way of attaching herself to people who otherwise wouldn't want anything to do with her. Hak sighs and stands from his stool. "I'll see if I can find her."

The kid's eyes widen. "I didn't mean you had to go off and make your own search party—!"

"Childhood friend, remember?" Hak asks, cracking his neck. He tries to play it off cool, as if he isn't worried sick, wondering where the two of them have gotten off to — but he's never been that great of an actor, not really, and the anxiety of it all has start to make him annoyingly twitchy. Enough so that Shin-Ah keeps shooting him concerned looks from beneath his hoodie.

"Tell her Yoon sent you!"

Yeah. Alright. An alibi.

Bars aren't really his scene, but the patrons part like the Red Sea as he pushes through the room. He supposes he has his height to thank for that (and perhaps his  _beef_ , he thinks, vaguely amused) but it does end up making his search harder. The tighter people pack together into groups, the harder it is to spot Yona in a crowd. Which is weird. Her hair is not exactly a normal color. One would think she'd be pretty easy to pick her out of a group of people.

Which makes him think she's not really in the actual bar at all. Palms sweaty, he wipes his hands on his jeans and makes his way to the hall by the bathrooms realizing, very quickly, that he has no real way of checking to see if she's in the ladies room or not without looking like a complete creep. Instead of barging in, like he wants to (for her safety!) he sort of… loiters in the hall by the door. Like a creep. And doesn't feel any better about this limbo he's in, either.

Yeah. Fuck that. Hak ditches the bathrooms, deciding that if Yona were really in trouble, he'd be able to hear her wailing through the door.

So Hak decides to poke his head outside, instead, and scope out the perimeter for her fiery mop of hair. It's the easiest way to pick her out of a crowd. For all she complains and whines about it, that unruly head of hair has served as her tell for as long as he can remember. There are plenty of girls about her height and about her weight; there aren't many people with a mane like hers, though.

The alley behind the back door smells like cheap cigarettes and weed. College town. Hak makes a face but grimaces through the haze of smoke and shuts the door behind him, squinting suspiciously. It seems quiet back here, and maybe almost innocently so, but there's a dumpster and a sniffle and Hak's feet kick into autopilot.

.

She's always been tiny. Petite, slender, and when they'd been children, he'd always just sort of assumed it'd been because she was two years their junior. Now, though, he supposes he can't use that same logic anymore; she's fully grown now, despite the watery way her eyes sparkle when she cries, the stupid way her nose wrinkles up and she scrubs at her face like a child. She's fully grown, now, and no eighteen year old girl should be curled up next to a dumpster behind a dive bar crying like a ten year old.

She'll be the death of him. Seriously.

"Hey," he tries, but there's a tightness in his voice, an urgency he can't seem to shake. But this is the role he's always played, he thinks - Yona's big protector, tending to her stubbed toes and bruised knees and papercuts, while Soo-won charmed the world around him and healed the wounds of the heart. "H… Hey, are you alright?"

There's a squeak, and her shoulders bunch up for a moment before she peeks over the rise of her knees, and oh, her mascara's smudged. She'd be mortified if she knew.

"Hak," she says, sniffling. "What're you doing here?"

"People watching." What else. "I don't think you get to be the one to ask that, though. What're you doing here? Your friend Yoon is looking for you."

She blinks, wearily, lashes heavy and dark with the weight of her tears. It's weird; he's seen this crying face of hers a thousand times, but there's something different in it, now. Her face is a little less soft, a little less pampered. The difference between sixteen and eighteen on her is startling.

"I… oh, Yoon," she mumbles, slurring a bit, and part of Hak wonders who'd given her alcohol. He can at least pass for older than 21 - and though she's shed some of her chubby cheeks in the time between sixteen and eighteen, the little princess will always have a baby face, he thinks. "Yoon… that's right."

"It's not like you to be so forgetful," he says, then drops to sit by her, unconsciously wedging himself between the dumpster and her shoulder. He makes room for himself, there, nearly twice her size, and Yona relents, scooting over, burying her face back into her arms and knees and sniffling. "You wanna talk about it?"

"No," she replies, very miserably, very muffled. "You'll make fun of me."

"When do I ever make fun of you?"

Yona looks up from her pity party long enough to give him a deafening side-eye. And alright. That's fair.

"I won't make fun of you," he says, instead of apologizing.

"Hak."

"Where's Soo-won?" he finds himself asking, instead. "Yoon said he was here with you, and it's not like him to leave you all alone in the dark. It's not safe for girls to hang out by themselves in places like this-"

"He had matters to attend to," she says, still peeking at him from aside, but her brows furrow, barely, for a second. Yona seems to choose her words carefully, weighing them on her tongue before she allows them weight, and it's unlike her, the spoiled little rich girl, to be so thoughtful in the moment, especially after what smells like a few spiked lemonades. "Or… sum'thin…."

Still. Unlike him, to leave their precious childhood friend alone at night. "Did he tell Yoon he was leaving at least?"

"I wanted to spend the night with him," Yona whines, then scoots enough to lean her head on his arm. He wants to make a comment, a dig at her about muscle and beef and how  _it must not be comfortable, Princess_ , but he resists. Another urge is more difficult to bite back, and Hak tries to wrangle in the desire to slip an arm around her shoulders and pull him to her.

He cannot take advantage. He's not that kind of guy. Certainly not a creep. "Don't you spend  _every_  night with him?"

"Noooo," says Yona, blinking sleepily. "Noooo. I wanted… I  _wanted_ …"

Something drops in Hak's stomach, not unlike a bowling ball, and very suddenly he gets what Yona had wanted. He should probably not be here. This is probably a mistake, and he shouldn't be the one having this conversation with her. Yona's squandered libido is decidedly out of bounds for him, he thinks - he feels guilty enough, most days, for harboring feelings for her at all, but  _this-_  well, this is just cruel. Cruel to the both of them.

Hak sighs and rubs his own face, then. "There'll be other chances." And he doesn't dare push further.

She's quiet, and for a moment he's afraid she might've fallen asleep, but when he chances a glance at her he finds she's just staring at him instead, thoughtfully, eyes misty. Her eyes are so dark, for a girl with so little worry in her life, and he finds himself getting lost for a spell, as he always does.

But then she pivots and presses her hand to his face instead, and Hak snaps out of it very quickly.

"Am I not a woman?" she asks.

"I don't think I like where this conversation is heading."

"Am I still just a child to him?" she presses on, anyway, in that headstrong, reckless way of hers. He takes her wrist into his hand and pulls her away from her face, lest she feels the beginnings of a blush start to warm his cheeks. "It's been months, and yet he still refuses to-"

Noooo nonono, he does not need to know. "Princess," he tries, "I don't think that's the case-"

"I love him," she says, and she's sniffling again, of course. "I want to show him that, but he won't let me. Or he doesn't want me to, and I don't know what that means, and everyone else already has-"

Yeah, he did not sign up for this. "Okay, horny pants," he says, then stands, suddenly, and she nearly tumbles back, if not for the grip he has on her wrist. Instead, she dangles back like a puppet, watching him with wide, dark eyes, and he berates himself mentally for allowing this conversation to go on as long as it has. "You're going to go home and take a cold shower."

"I showered before I came," she whines, then goes completely dead weight, like a jelly-legged toddler. Ridiculous. Hak continues to try and pull her to her feet by grabbing her other wrist too and lifting. "You don't understaaaaaand."

"Don't be stupid."

" _You're_ stupid! Big stupid  _bully!_ " But he gets her to her feet anyway, even if her legs don't lock in to place, even if her knees have decided that they are not her own. She dangles back, watching him, lower lip tucked beneath her teeth and sighs pitifully.

Fine. If she wants to play this game, he'll play this game. If she wants to be ten, he'll treat her like she's ten; Yona weighs maybe 95 pounds soaking wet, and hefting her into his arms is not even a little bit of a challenge. She squeaks, flailing, but her arms find their way around his neck with unnerving ease, and something roars in his chest, ancient and repressed, because this is nice, having her so close to him. This is nice, feeling the weight of her against his chest, the warmth of her hands on the back of his neck, even as her fingers twitch and tangle a little in his hair. It's nostalgic. It's dangerous.

It's not the time or the place for it. Hak says, "Let's go, virgin," and laughs at her kitten screams as he hefts her back into the light of the street lamps and meets Shin-Ah and Yoon, waiting for them at the entrance.

This is what he does, after all. What he's always done. If he doesn't look after her, hell, who will?


	2. 2

The hangover isn't even the worst of it.

But let her be clear: the hangover is still pretty bad. And she probably deserves it, judging by the flat look Yoon gives her when Yona finally pulls the covers from over her eyes and squints into the light of day. For all of the maternal prowess Yoon has in spades, he's also fluent in disappointed stares, and it sobers her almost instantaneously.

"Good morning, harlot," he says with a certain dryness to his voice.

Which. Ugh. Her mouth feels impossibly dry, as if she's had her cheeks stuffed full of cotton balls for hours.  _Uncomfortable._ Yona whines and wiggles, tangled in the crooked sheets and slips her hands free from the burrito she's ravelled herself into.

"Water," she begs. "Pleaseeee."

"You'll get your water after we're done having our talk, young lady," Yoon says, and it's just like him, to hold her salvation hostage while trying to grill in a point.

"Nooooo."

"You know you're not supposed to run off without letting me know where you've gone. Especially when you've been drinking." Yoon stops, brows furrowed, and brushes her bangs from her eyes when she sniffles feebly. "Don't- Don't cry, ugh, you- I'm just worried about you, you stupid, spoiled brat-"

"I'm sorryyyy," she whines, slinking further into her blanket burrito. The bed creaks beneath her, and without even really looking, she knows she's not in her own room. "I just-"

"Hey," he says, quietly, and Yona stops trying to dig her into her grave of sheets and die peacefully long enough to peek over the blanket he'd no doubt knitted himself to watch him sigh. "I'm not angry, okay? I just want you to understand that the stunt you pulled last night was dangerous. People respect Soo-won and won't try to mess with you while he's around, and I'm not exactly the biggest guy around, but creeps at least won't try to slip anything into your drink if you've got someone else with you-"

"Hak would never!"

"I never said Hak would," Yoon placates, very smoothly. He rubs his forehead. "I'm just lucky he happened to know exactly where to look for you."

"You asked a stranger to look for me?" Yona asks, blinking. "I thought you were upset with me for wandering off when there were strangers around-"

"Hak was sitting with Shin-ah," Yoon says, shortly, "and Shin-ah wouldn't hurt a fly. That's besides the point - you know your dad left you in my care, Yona. I don't want to see anything bad happen to you. Especially not while you've been illegally drinking."

Stupid. She's in college now. Everyone drinks illegally. It's practically a rite of passage. Though addressing why is another question entirely - Yona's head hurts everywhere, in places she didn't think heads could even hurt, and when Yoon doesn't immediately continue lecturing her, she resumes burrowing back into the safety of his bedding.

"I'm not a baby," she says, sniffling, still. "I don't know why everyone keeps treating me like one. I'm practically an adult now and yet I can't go anywhere on my own without a chaperone. It's stupid."

"You're a girl," Yoon says, almost too quickly.

"So  _what?!_ "

She doesn't need to see Yoon to know he's raking a hand through his hair and sighing. Whatever. He might act like it, but he's not her mom - and no matter how much Yona appreciates the concern, no matter how badly she longs for some sort of truly maternal figure in her life - she has to grow up sometime. And how can she ever grow up if nobody ever lets her make her own decisions?

It's frustrating. Infantilizing. She's eighteen, for goodness sake. Practically a woman now.

If only someone would treat her like one.

"... It's not safe for girls to be alone at night," Yoon says, after a moment's pause.

"That's messed up, Yoon."

"I'm not saying it's right!" She winces from within her tomb. "Sorry. I'm not saying it's right," Yoon starts again, more quietly, "but it is what it is. I don't want to see you as a trending Twitter moment, Yona."

"It's not like it would happen anyway." There's something aching in her chest, deep and dark, and she wants to scoop it out, dig her hands into her ribs and grasp it, finally. Crush it between her fingers and finally find peace. How long has it been, now, that she's spent chasing Soo-won's coat tails?

"Yona."

"I'm not  _attractive_  anyway-"

" _Yona_."

"It doesn't matter," she blurts, damply, and perhaps Yoon reads the mood, because he relents. Doesn't push the subject.

Instead, he clicks his tongue and gets up. Yona peeks, misty eyed, through the cracks of the blankets and watches him leave the room and return with a glass of water, toast, and some ibuprofen. Such a mom, even now; she doesn't know whether she wants to laugh or cry more. Doesn't know if she wants to grab his hand and demand he stay with her until she's ridden out this momentary heartache out or tough it out alone.

She supposes it's not the absolute end of the world if Soo-won doesn't want to sleep with her. Sex isn't the end-all confirmation of love. There are other ways for her to share her feelings for him, other ways for him to dote on her — but it feels like a big one, somehow, and she almost feels cheated out of a rite of passage, as if the rug has been slipped out from under her. It's silly, and she realizes that —  _spoiled princess,_ the voice in her head sing-songs, in that voice that always sounds a little too much like Hak.

… Which reminds her.

Yona squirms and fishes her phone out from under Yoon's pillow, blearily navigating through her contacts. The three unread messages barely register — Lili, Yoon and  _Hak_ — before she's tumbled her way into the text conversation with her oldest friend and frantically finger-typing apologies. Before long, she's buried his snide goodnight message beneath a barrage of  _I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, please forget you heard anything,_  and downs Yoon's offerings without second thought.

.

By 3:00, she's feeling mostly human again, so she shuffles out of Yoon's bed and navigates his shower mostly with ease. The warm water feels good on her sluggish muscles, and for a long while she stands there, staring blearily into the spray of the water, hoping to melt away.

It's dumb. It's not like she'd even done anything particularly wrong. Sure, maybe Yoon has a point, maybe she shouldn't have wandered off on her own without letting anyone know where she was heading - but in the moment she hadn't really had a plan, so it sort of seems like a moot point to her. All she'd really wanted was to find a quiet place to cry. It's hard to have a quiet place to cry when Yoon's lurking from around the corner, watchfully fretting while trying hard to seem as if he isn't.

When it comes down to it, Yoon isn't her mother. He's not. He's sweet, in his own way, and stubborn, but he isn't her mother, and though Yona feels a very similar protective pull to watch over him as he struggles to someday pay for school, it's not the same. She  _knows_ she isn't his mother.

It's  _dumb_. At this point, Yona doesn't even know who she's upset with. Is it Yoon, for nagging and fretting and actually looking out for her? Is it Soo-Won, for thwarting her libido? Is it herself, for still, after all of this time, not being enough to satisfy her prince charming?

Yona globs conditioner into her hair and scrubs vigorously.

No. She can't think about that. It'll tear her apart, if she gives it the chance. Soo-Won always has a reason for what he does. Though kind-hearted and gentle, he has the foresight that Yona's never had, and if he thinks it's not time for them to… consummate their love, well, then she'll just have to work on accepting that. It's not like she can't find, erm, release elsewhere. She owns a vibrator. She has  _fingers,_  for goodness sake. Yona doesn't need a penis to get her off, period, ever, end of story. She doesn't need one for  _anything_.

Still. There's something about it that rubs her the wrong way. Part of it feels… dismissive, almost, of her feelings, to turn her down so constantly without any sort of compromise. And at the same time that also feels sort of gross to her, too - expecting a compromise, as if it's her god-given right, to have access to any part of his body. It isn't. And she shouldn't; it's barbaric to think otherwise. Soo-won's body is Soo-won's, and if he chooses, someday, to allow Yona to touch him, sure, great. Otherwise, she needs to simmer down.

The suds drip from her head and down her bare shoulders, then plop to the shower floor. Yona watches her feet until the water runs clear around her and sighs. Maybe Yoon was right in calling her a harlot. Is this who she is now? Is she a pervert?

God, Hak would never let her forget it.

… Hak  _will_ never let her forget. It's embarrassing enough, knowing that Yoon had seen her depressed over being turned down by her boyfriend for sex, but Hak - that's just a whole new level of mortifying. Hak has history with her. Hell, Hak has history with Soo-won - and enough blackmail material now to never let her pride see the light of day again.

Even beyond that, how is she supposed to look him in the eye, now, knowing she'd effectively cried on his shoulder over something so miniscule? She was supposed to have outgrown that needy, childish part of herself. He'd been proud of her, once, for bucking up, for going through the rest of her high school years without her boys around to smooth things over for her. And she'd liked that feeling, the way he'd pat her head, the way he'd smiled at her in that crooked, soft way he does so rarely.

She's too old to depend on men. It's probably not wrong, she thinks, to lean on a shoulder every now and then, when she really needs it - but to put something like that on him just feels unfair, even to her spoiled self.

The water runs cold around her and Yona switches off the shower. She stands there for one pregnant moment more, naked and dripping, alone, in an unfamiliar shower, contemplating the choices that brought her here to this very moment and wonders, not for the first time, if this is what adulthood is supposed to be like. She feels too old for heartache, very suddenly, and both too young for it, all at the same time.

Stupid girl. It's just sex. Virginity doesn't mean anything in the real world. It's like Soo-won always says.  _Sex_ doesn't mean anything in the real world.

Not unless she gives it unnecessary weight, right?

.

"Whoa," Lili says, "rough night?"

Yona says nothing and instead drops face-first into her blankets. She wonders if she could die, right here, in her pile of pillows and stuffed animals. It'd be certainly a better fate than facing Hak ever again.  _Or_ Soo-won.

"Understood," Lili says, and then rustles around, setting her laptop aside and unceremoniously dropping onto the bed besides her. She wriggles her way under a blanket and tosses it over Yona, too, and then nestles herself against her. "Do you want to talk about it, or do you want me to just shut up and be the big spoon?"

What did she ever do to deserve such a great roommate. Yona whines and rolls to face her. "I'm a harlot."

"You can't be a virgin harlot," Lili replies, perhaps too quickly, because something flinches in Yona's chest, sore and cranky. "Unless Soo-won did something that I need to know about."

Hardly. If anything, he didn't do enough, and that's the problem, Yona sighs and opens her eyes, facing the light of day. Lili stares back, eyes uncharacteristically soft, and brushes Yona's bangs from her eyes long enough to get a good long look at her.

"You don't look hurt," she says, after a minute. "No bruises."

"As if Soo-won would ever lay on finger on me," Yona scoffs.

Lili clicks her tongue. "I know. He's a coward." She pauses, then adds, "and vanilla."

"I'm okay with vanilla." She quite likes vanilla, actually. Maybe it's silly, or maybe it's childish, to still daydream about being spoiled, even in bed - but part of Yona still wants to be doted on, as unreasonable as it is. Such duality, she thinks, to want to be held and cuddled and treated like a princess between the sheets, but to still want to be treated as an independent person outside of that. "Is that normal?"

Lili laughs and flicks her forehead very lovingly. "I think it's normal to want to be coddled sometimes. So you want to talk about it?"

Even if she didn't, Yona thinks she might go mad without trying to. "I tried explaining it to Yoon but he didn't understand." He was certainly more caught up on the part where she sat outside by herself and cried it out than the part where Soo-won crushed her pride, that's for sure.

"Boys are useless," Lili says, and she's right, obviously. "Even pretty boys."

" _Genius_  pretty boys."

Lili laughs, again, and the storm begins to clear in Yona's head long enough to realize her phone's begun vibrating in her pocket. They both stop, and Lili raises a brow at her, so Yona figures she should probably fish her phone out of her pocket and at least see who's trying to interrupt some much needed girl time.

**[ anytime, princess ]**

God.

"Soo-won?"

Yona shakes her head slowly. "No, it's…" It's just Hak being himself. Trying to mind his business and somehow failing miserably with a two word text. "... an old friend."

"Zeno?"

She could laugh. The thought of Zeno trying to navigate Yona's muddy feelings on sex and Soo-won sounds even more uncomfortable than Hak awkwardly patting her shoulder. "No," she says, then, chewing her lower lip. "I told you about Hak, didn't I?"

"From your hometown?" Lili shifts her weight and props her head up on her hand. "Sure. The big brother who's not actually your big brother."

Bingo. "I saw him last night." And yesterday morning. But that's not important. "He was at the bar last night when… when Soo-won and I had a fight. Kind of."

"About the usual?"

The usual. She hates that they have a usual. What ever happened to happily ever after? When she finally graduated high school she thought everything was going to fall into place for them. WIthout her father breathing over her shoulder she was supposed to be able to finally get the chance to be with him without anything standing in their way. And for a while it had been all sunshine and rainbows, between the dates and movie nights and forehead kisses and hand holding - except it'd never progressed beyond that.

Which is fine. Really, thirteen year old Yona would've been thrilled at the prospect of getting to exist so closely to her prince charming. A real dream come true. He still smiles at her kindly, still sits with her when she's feeling anxious, still combs and braids her hair with deafening gentleness. How could she ever ask for more?

Except she is. Needy little princess, Hak would say. Stupid Hak. "I just don't know what he wants out of the relationship anymore. We've been together for like, half of a year now, except-"

"Maybe he's ace," Lili says thoughtfully.

Yona stops in her tracks. Stops. Considers it. "... You know-"

"He could be ace," Lili says again, twirling her long hair around her finger. "Would that be a problem for you?

"... No." She doesn't need sex, not really, to be happy. Maybe it's not the sex she's even upset about, now that she really sits and thinks about it.  _Maybe_  it's the mixed messages, not truly knowing what he wants from her, not truly knowing where their boundaries are. "We just haven't talked about it. He'd tell me if he was, right? He trusts me enough to have that conversation, doesn't he?"

Lili shrugs and examines her hair. "I'd hope so. You're his girlfriend."

Something about the verbal confirmation makes her cheeks pink.  _God._  How can she both want to sleep with him and also still get so flustered when someone refers to her as his girlfriend? Such duality. She's so full of contradictions. It makes no sense.

"... I don't think I know a lot about asexuality," Yona admits, after collecting herself.

"Me neither."

Well, it's nothing a little google search can't solve. But first things first - Hak. Yona turns her attention back to her phone and focuses on constructing a reply that both communicates her thankfulness and threatens him into not teasing her mercilessly.

**[ Don't tell a soul or else I'll tell everyone about your butt mole! ]**

Lili barks out a laugh. " _What._ "

Yona jolts and hugs her phone to her chest. "Hey. No screen peeking!"

"Sorry," Lili drops back down and rolls to lay on her back, instead. She stares at their ceiling and says, "Butt mole?"

Her cheeks burn hotter now, somehow, than they had when she'd been discussing her sex life (or lack thereof). "We bathed together when we were kids! His grandfather and my dad were friends, so-"

"So you know about his moles."

"... This sounds bad."

"It sounds like you looked at his butt long enough to remember a particular mole." Lili nudges her with her foot. "How long ago as this?"

"... F… fifteen years?"

Lili's quiet for a moment. Long enough for Yona to lower her guard and peek back at her phone and navigate her way to Google, but not long enough to finish typing out  _asexuality_ before she's muttering, "you're a virgin harlot after all."

"Hey!"

Throttling her with her stuffed animals doesn't silence the laughter. And fine, okay, that's fair; even Yona doesn't know why she still remembers that mole on Hak's butt so well either. But blackmail is blackmail, and it's all she's got against the thunder beast himself, and sometimes fighting fire with fire is the only way to win.

.

"You know," Hak says, flipping back the plastic flap on his hot chocolate, "there are better ways to threaten me into silence."

"Shut up."

"Like this. Paying for my drink." Hak holds up the cheap two-dollar hot chocolate and shakes it in front of her face. "This is all it would've taken."

"Shut  _up,_ " Yona whines, shoving his drink away. "I panicked, okay? The end justifies the means."

"Does it."

Why does that not sound very much like a question? Yona shoots him a dirty look and his eyes crinkle with his smile. He's really got such a interesting array of smiles; there are times like these, when he's teasing her, that he grins like a cat that caught the mouse, and the effect is so resoundingly different than the subtle smiles he sometimes shoots her when she's not bullshitting him. Right now, his grin makes her want to pinch his nose and take his hot chocolate for herself.

She doesn't, though. His arms are too long for something like that to ever work. She knows from experience. Eighteen is too old to be playing keep away.

"I called you here for advice, you know," she says, narrowing her eyes. "Not to be mocked for my methods. If you didn't want to be blackmailed maybe you shouldn't have a mole on your butt."

"Do you even hear yourself when you speak, Princess? That doesn't make sense."

"Makeup, Hak!"

He snorts, then takes a sip of his drink. "On my ass?"

"Beauty is pain."

Yona drops to sit on a park bench and gestures beside her. Hak raises a brow but takes the hint and sits, and it's almost comical, how large he is compared to the bench. He'd always been tall, sure, but he somehow feels bigger, now, than he had the last time she'd seen him. And maybe that's not fair; at eighteen, he'd been a giant already, but for whatever reason it's always thirteen year old Hak that sticks out in her memory, gangly but not quite broad yet.

He sips his drink again. Stops to lean forward and rest his elbows on his knees and crack his neck. "Well."

"Well?"

"I'm here. I've been threatened. What is it you needed, Princess? Please allow me to do my duty so that I may go back to homework and sleep."

"Hak."

His head turns, just a bit, and he glances at her through the corner of his eye. And huh. In this overcast light, his eyes really do look dark blue. Maybe it's the army green of his beanie.

Irrelevant. Yona slaps her cheeks and forces herself into the zone. "I think Soo-won is ace and I need to know if you think so too."

So much for not relying on Hak for something like this, she thinks, fleetingly. His brow raises and she knows she's gone and gotten him interested now. But who else is she supposed to ask, other than Soo-won himself? Who else knows him well enough but Hak, his best friend and practical brother? Even in childhood, there had been things they'd shared between them that Yona had never been privy to. Maybe this had been one of those things, and now he's just too nice to break the news to her.

"... Huh."

"Right?" Yona digs her boot into the dirt. "It sort of makes sense, doesn't it?"

"I mean." Hak cracks his neck again, glancing away from her. "I guess? But I think it's something you need to ask him about."

"But I don't want to accidentally insult him." She pauses, watches the little bit of snow still left on the ground dampen the toe of her boots. "I know it's not a bad thing if he is. I wouldn't have a problem with it, you know. I love him no matter what. But if that's why he doesn't want to… you know… I just want to know, I guess. So I can better respect his boundaries."

Hak laughs, but he doesn't sound very happy about it. "It's one of those things that nobody can know for sure but him."

"He hasn't said anything to you?"

Hak shrugs and takes a longer sip this time. If she didn't know any better, she might suspect that he'd spiked the drink - but it'd been only two-dollars, and even on campus, there's no way any alcohol could be that cheap.

"I don't mean to pry," she amends, quickly, feeling a gross sort of guilty and nosy. It's almost slimey, like she's gone behind her boyfriend's back, but- but she doesn't know what else she's supposed to do about it. "Everytime I try to talk to him about anything like this he just shuts me down. And if it's because he's not… you know… into anyone like that… I'd just rather know. Because if he is, and it's just me he's not into-"

"He's not dating you out of pity, if that's what you're thinking," Hak says, still not looking at her. "He wouldn't do that."

She didn't think so either. But something about it won't leave her alone, like the last piece won't fit into place. "Am I making a big deal about nothing?"

Hak sighs and finally turns to look at her. He stares for a long time, and Yona fidgets, feeling a little bit like she's being held beneath a microscope. Usually Hak is all jives and laughs, poking fun at her while never truly hurting her feelings, but sometimes - times like this - he's almost introspective, in a way she never expects from him.

She blinks and squirms, setting her hands into her lap. "... What?"

He shakes his head slowly. "Nothing." He goes to say something else but seems to change his mind, and instead presses his lips together in contemplation. Finally, he settles on, "if it hurts you it's not nothing. Your feelings matter too."

A… Ah. She blinks back at him, feeling a little bit like a deer in the headlights, even if she shouldn't. What's weirder is she can't seem to find the words to respond to him, and instead she just sort of… stares back at him, ears warm.

Maybe she should've worn a hat too. Hm.

"Has he tried to contact you today?"

Apparently her tongue is still tied. Yona shakes her head side to side. No.

Hak heaves a heavier sigh and cracks his neck one last time. "Text him then."

Blue has never felt so suffocating. It's like she could drown, right then and there. For goodness sake. It's just Hak. She's known him forever. Leaned on him for sillier things. Yona presses her palms flat against her lap and looks there, instead, to gather herself. "I don't know what to say."

"Tell him what you told me last night. But put it through a sober filter." Hak sits back and tilts his head back to the sky and when did she start looking at him again? "Don't start crying at him. You and I both know he's no good with crying girls. He'll just try to coddle you."

Yeah. No more coddling. She is Yona, eighteen year old woman, and even if she's aimless right now it doesn't mean she has to be forever. Growth doesn't come overnight; somewhere, there has to be that first step. And nothing good in life ever comes easy.

"... Tell him," she repeats.

"And not me. I don't like to think about you two bumping uglies."

Yona nudges him with her shoulder. But with their height difference, her shoulder reaches his bicep, and god, it seems like he's hard everywhere. No matter where she touches, it seems like he's covered in a fresh layer of muscle, and her nose wrinkles up at the realization. "Why're you like that?!"

"Because I like to sleep at night?"

"No, not about-  _you're so muscley, Hak_." To prove a point, she pivots and jabs her fingers into his arm. "What good does this do? Who're you trying to impress with guns like these?"

"That scholarship I got," he says, dryly, but there's a mischievous quirk to his grin. And she supposes that's fair - she and Soo-won both practically got a free ride through the school, considering who their fathers were, but for Hak - well, his grandfather wasn't poor, by any means, but Hak never was one to accept handouts.

"I bet you could crush a watermelon," she says, without missing a beat.

"You… what," he says, laughing, setting his hot chocolate aside to face her without accidentally staining her off-white peacoat. "You're the weirdest person I've ever met. Where did that even come from?"

"Look at your arms!" Yona blurts, grabbing his wrist and yanking it up. "God, you're like- even Soo-won isn't this ridiculous, and he's, like-"

"Perfect, Princess, I know."

Yona tries not to think about the way his voice dips

"... I just didn't think arms came this thick."

Hak shakes her grip off. "Well, they don't out of the box."

It's strange, to feel so close to Hak, and to fall into their same old patterns so comfortably - he teases, her temper gets the best of her, they rinse and repeat - but for there to still be this new, unfamiliar distance between them. The way it presents itself is subtle. She hadn't noticed it, really, until just now, watching the way his brows furrow, just slightly, as he stands up and offers a hand to her. But it'd been there last night too, hadn't it? When he'd listened to her cry, eyes a thousand miles away, that same deep blue but unfocused, somehow, through it all.

She takes his hand and he helps pull her to his feet, just like he always has. But when they're standing he's so far away, so much taller than she is. It leaves her feeling restless, and lonely, and… empty?

"Text him," he says again. "I mean it, Yona."

Something in her chest pinches. It's sharp, and it catches her off guard. When was the last time he'd actually called her by her name? It shouldn't… ache like that. All this time, she'd been trying to get him to drop the pet name, thinking it'd been teasing, and mocking, and everything else she'd been trying to drop in the past few months since coming to college, but- maybe she wasn't quite yet ready to let that part of herself go, not yet.

She should be. She's no princess, not really. Yona is far too old to play pretend. Far too old, especially, to think she has any sort of power or sway over Hak.

"... In a bit," she says, swallowing thickly. "I- we haven't had a chance to catch up yet, Hak. I've missed you."

His grip slips from her wrist. "We have all the time in the world for that, you know."

She has no power or sway over Hak. It's fine, if he doesn't want to spend time with her, if he'd rather go home and finish his homework and sleep, or, or - whatever. It shouldn't make her feel guilty like this. Shouldn't make that pinching in her chest so sharp. It doesn't make sense.

"I'm not ready to talk to Soo-won yet," she admits, and it does nothing to lessen that guilty feeling swelling in her gut. Doesn't do anything to alleviate this sudden distance between Hak and her, either, but  _tell him, tell him_ , makes her feel sick. "So. A-And besides, you…. you were my best friend too, Hak. I thought you were."

He nearly fumbles with his hot chocolate.

"... If that's okay to say," she adds, bunching her shoulders up.

"Yeeees, it's just-" he stops to gobble down what's left of his drink and toss the plastic cup into the trash, "I wasn't, uh. Expecting you to get all sappy on me all of a sudden."

 _Sappy._  "I just! Wasn't sure if it was okay to text you once I moved here," she starts, and slowly, but surely, Hak seems to be coming out of that shell he'd tucked himself inside of. "Because I was here mostly for Soo-won, you know, and you hadn't messaged me in a while, and I thought you might've had a girlfriend and it would've been weird if a girl was texting you all of a sudden-"

"A  _girlfriend,_ " he says, and this time he does laugh.

"Muscles!" Yona blurts right back, pointing accusingly at aforementioned guns. "Lady killing  _muscles!_ "

Hak throws his head back and laughs. Yona festers in her guilty feelings and burns, face feeling bright, and that piano wire in her gut finally snaps.

"You're the weirdest person I've ever met," he says again, still laughing, and messes her hair. "Stop procrastinating and text your boyfriend so you'll stop looking at me all moony-eyed. It's weird. I don't like it."

"I- I  _wasn't_ -"

Stupid Hak. She was trying to be honest with him. But still. He's smiling now, at least, and it almost reaches his eyes. Close enough.

"You don't have to explain yourself, okay." And he means it, judging by the level way he's looking at her now. Gone is the teasing, laughing boy from before. Instead, there's clarity in his eyes, and if she really looks, she thinks she can see the Hak she knows, thinks she can reach him somewhere in there, beneath all that beef. "You don't owe me anything"

"But you listened to me cry! It's embarrassing! You shouldn't have to do that."

He shrugs. "Buy me a coffee next time and we're even."

Yeah, okay.

"... And leave my butt out of it."

" _Hak!"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didnt read through this as well as i should've but s/o to my boy for at least fixing most of the grammar issues in this. sorry. it's been a month and i'm bad at being productive but i love them


End file.
